One
by Britishmenarehot
Summary: The time Molly finds out what she means to Sherlock (one-shot) Please send your thoughts!


One-shot

Molly looks up again from her microscope. She sees him on the other side of the lab busy with some specimen and completely content. It was just two days ago he had kissed her. Held her. Now she was nothing to him. At least that is what it felt like to her. No contact other than in the lab asking for arms or legs or feet. She couldn't even bring herself to be mad at him. He had done this so many times before. Every time he did come over she let him in. Let him into heart and her bed. She knew every morning he would be gone. Every morning there would be a cold spot next to her.

It didn't help that everyone else saw her as stupid Molly Hooper. In love with a sociopath, who barely knew she existed. He knew she existed right? But in the bottom on her heart, she knew she was just another piece of transport. Another facet of his life that he held has an unnecessary requirement to live. He knew she wasn't going to make a fuss, and that he could do what he pleased.

Every morning she would wake up and say, this is the day. Today is the day that I will say no. I won't let him in. I won't let him come to my bed. But her will always broke when he messages her. It wasn't as if he was whispering sweet nothings to her. She just couldn't resist. The moments that they were together she swore that he actually saw her. For a moment in time he looked at her like every man should look at a woman. But then the look would go just as quickly as it came.

Dr. Watson walks in and catches her staring, only to flash a sympathetic smile. She casts her eyes away from Sherlock and back to what she is doing. Silently cursing at those sympathetic eyes. She hated that every felt so sorry for her. It was her own fault but she still hated it.

It was her own fault to be in love with Sherlock Holmes.

Molly packs up her stuff for the night and goes home to her empty house. Most of her friends are out with their husbands and boyfriends, but she is at home with her cat. A glass of wine will be good, she tells herself. Maybe tonight she would get the courage to say no to him.

Are you home? –SH

She looks at the message and sighs before taking another sip of wine that she poured. Thank god it was the end of the week. Should she just turn off her phone? She doesn't respond to his message and continues to swirl the wine in her glass.

Can I come over? –SH

She looks at the second message ignoring it again and gets up to go to bed. She was going to be strong and not respond.

I'm coming over –SH

She opens her eyes; it was 2 AM. It was always so presumptuous of him to just show up at her doorstep without an invitation. She locks her phone and rolls over. He always knew how to let himself in without a key. Not answering, she knew, was as good as a yes to him. But it was a step in the right direction she thought. At least she didn't jump up and respond to him with anticipation that this night would be different, that this night it would mean something to him.

It feels like only a few minutes later when she feels his body slide in next to her. She wasn't going to give in. No sex for him. That was her new rule right? No dinner, no sex. It was a good one in her mind. He wraps his arm around her and snuggles up behind her, spooning her. Her eyes snap open. She never felt this before. He never cuddled up to her. She lies there, still, for hours not wanting the feeling to go away.

"I know you are awake," he finally says to her.

"Why are you here?" she asks him.

"I need…" he pauses for a second, "I need rest"

"Why can't you do that a Bakers Street" she responds.

"Because you aren't there"

She takes a deep breath and rolls over. Her face inches away from his.

"You don't care about me though, why would that matter?" She didn't know what gave her the courage to say this but she is glad she did.

"That's ridiculous," he tells her his arm still wrapped around her and his eyes staring straight at her. Her heart skips a beat disarmed by the vibrancy of his blue/green eyes.

"No it's not," she says before rolling back over trying to hide the tears that are beginning to fall down her cheeks.

"You deserve someone better. Someone whole, who can love you the way you need to be loved. I can't be that person. I will never be conventional; I'll always be working for days and weeks at a time. I'll always be moody, standoffish, and selfish. I can never be a constant in your life. It'll never been dinner every night at 7 pm and breakfast at 8 am. I will always say the wrong thing. I will forget your birthday, anniversaries, and important dates. There will always be a part of me that craves danger. I will never be what you want. And you will some day realize that. You will realize that you want a bloke who is reliable and constant. Someone who will be there when you wake up and when you go to sleep. And you will leave me. I need to keep you at some distance. Or I will never recover. I'll never recover from you leaving me." His eyes don't cloud up with tears, but they hold a darkness that she has never seen before. He is speaking the truth to her, and he is just as frightened as she is.

She wipes her eyes before rolling back over and reaching out to him touching his face.

"I just want you. Sherlock Holmes. Nothing more. Nothing less."


End file.
